


Alien Invasion Of One

by SaltwaterEldritch



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Alien Culture, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Culture Shock, Friendship, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Government Conspiracy, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Language Barrier, Multi, No Romance, Not Beta Read, On the Run, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader-Insert, Species Swap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2020-12-28 15:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21139049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltwaterEldritch/pseuds/SaltwaterEldritch
Summary: You never had a chance on Alternia. Ever since the day you were hatched, You were doomed for a life of hiding in fear, and stalling the inevitable ending of your sad little tale.None of it matters anymore, however, because you just stole a fuckingspaceshuttlefrom the Fleet and ran from the Empire to some nowhere corner of the universe, more precisely, a pretty blue planet where (you hope) they'll never find you again.Your name is MISPAH RAEDRE, you're an ADULT TROLL who just escaped THE ALTERNIAN EMPIRE. You've never had FRIENDS, and these funny pink aliens might be just the kind of people you need.





	1. Escapee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adulting is hard and nobody understands.

Your oldest memories are of confusion and solitude.

You remember being in a cold, dark place, your small body slowly moving around with six little legs, and tiny sharp teeth biting everything and everyone that came close. There were strange round white blurry shapes in which you couldn't quite identify with your still developing vision, along with other, more colorful moving figures, most of them roughly the same size as you.

You remember bigger colorful figures too. They were huge, wore lots of green and made weird sounds which you couldn't make heads or tails of. They would often walk around the place, sometimes picking some of your fellow colorful companions and taking them gog-knows-where. They never looked at you.

Then, there were the huge black figures. They scared you. A lot. They made even weirder noises that sometimes hurt your ears, and whenever they weren't flying, their footsteps shook the ground, making you and pretty much everyone else close enough lose their footing. Sometimes, they would pick up small colorful ones like you and throw them against walls or pointy parts of the ceiling, making the warm liquid that colored their shells spill everywhere.

You stayed as far away from the big dark figures as you could.

Other memories that you have of your grubhood are of being held close, basking in the warmth of a large white beast and feeling so... Protected, like nothing in the world could hurt you these moments. You wish you could go back to those days, even if for a second. To feel your lusus' gentle nuzzling and grip on you. To have nothing to worry about and just... Be happy.

Unfortunately, you grew up.

You wonder if things would have been easier and less painful if you had died in the caverns.

Alas, here you are. Navigating through unknown territories in a stolen spaceship, the whole fucking Alternian Empire coming for your ass and a half-hidden dirty little secret in your veins, just waiting until the time comes to show itself.

Your name is MISPAH RAEDRE, and let's rewind a bit and see just when, exactly, everything went wrong.

* * *

"Ah, fuck."

It's slimy. You would say that you're used to it, after all, you bathe in sopor slime every time you go to sleep, but this... Is different. It doesn't have the pleasant buzz sopor gives you, that little feeling of sleepiness and intense relaxation, no. This is just fucking slimy and sticky, and while there's not enough for it to drip on the floor, it's enough to cover your entire body in a single, thin layer. It does absolutely nothing other than be disgusting. Ew.

You can't really walk yet, so you simply drag yourself out of your chrysalis and lay on the floor for a while. Oh, your hair has grown. You're too tired to care right now, but maybe you'll cut it later? Who knows, maybe you'll leave it that way, whatever.

Your sense of time is completely fucked up from your time as a chrysalis, but you're pretty sure you stayed on the floor long enough. Trying not to shiver from the slight cold of your respiteblock, you shakily try to get up, using the wall as support until your legs stop trembling from disuse and such radical change. Woooah, you're _tall!_ You knew you would grow up, but _damn,_ you feel like a gogdamn tower now. Hell yeah!

Now on somewhat stable legs, you quickly walk to the ablutionblock, eager to both get a look at your new body and get rid of the sticky-slimy substance that comes with molting. You idly note the footprints which were added to the mess on the floor when you walk. Shit, you'll have to clean them after your take a good, long shower. Aw man, you're still feeling kinda drowsy. C'mon, think straight-

_*SCRATCH*_

Ah shiT YO_UR HORNS-_

Great. If you were only a bit drowsy before, that's a full-blown headache now. Oh, the unfortunate downside of being tall. Your hive wasn't designed for an adult, and now your once Ok Ceiling turned into a Not Ok Ceiling. You quickly wave your hands in a fanning motion around your horns to try (and fail) to subdue the pain.

At last, you reach the ablutionblock. You have to duck to be able to walk through the door frame, and the whole space itself looks way smaller than you last saw it, but it's manageable enough. 

You make a beeline for the tub, quickly twisting the knob and letting lukewarm water through. While waiting for it to fill so you can finally get clean, you walk over to the mirror, looking at the floor just to make everything more dramatic- _no one here to see your reaction, but it doesn't hurt to add a little "more" to everything-_.

You gently lay your hands on the edge of the sink, closing you're eyes and looking up. Okay, now's the moment you've been waiting for.

You open your eyes, and find yourself staring at a _very_ scary, _very_ exciting sight.

It's you! But... Not? You already knew your skin was darker, almost black, but seeing your face like this is certainly a weird experience. Everything's more defined and your cheeks lack the baby fat they had so abundantly before, making your jaw sharper too. As noticed before, your hair is longer, making your wet bangs fall in front of your eyes. Hmm, maybe you could cut the bangs and put the rest in a ponytail?

All those thoughts are shoved into the back of your head, however, as you take a good, long look at your eyes.

Lime green. Cullbait.

Sighing, you reach into the cabinet under the sink and hastily pull out a small medicine bottle. You found this in the black market for the price of three kidneys, and while it took a while for you to find the perfect victims and a spot to hide their bodies, along with the courage to_actually_ do it, it was all worth it. There is a kind of drug which is capable of changing one's blood color, as long as it's close enough to the desirable color. For example, a rust blood can't turn into a cobalt blood, but can turn into a brown, maybe yellow of they're lucky. Incredibly illegal.

These particular pills make your blood turn olive green for about two days. You figure lime and olive are close enough. Choosing to fake being a yellow blood would be dangerous, for you don't have any psiionic powers, which would get you culled nonetheless. As an olive blood, you suppose if will be easier to hide.

You take the pills dry and glance at the bathtub. It's already halfway filled, which is good enough. You unceremoniously plop your entire body in the tub and immediately start scrubbing your legs. People often comment on how well-defined and pretty your lower limbs are, which you wholeheartedly agree. Damn right they're gorgeous. The one thing you're proud of.

The rest of bathtime goes uneventfully, just lots of scrubbing and lots of soap to really get everything out. As the transparent substance slowly colors the water of the tub, making it seem like the oil stains in the ocean that the sea-dwellers so often complain about, you start to think of your future. It's not particularly bright.

You're an adult now. You can't stay on Alternia. You thought of forever staying at home, but it would never work. How would you get food? Lusii aren't allowed in stores without a grub present, and you sure as hell aren't a grub now, haven't been for sweeps. Besides, you bet eventually a drone would find you and cull you for sticking around longer than allowed. So many things that could go wrong, you can't risk staying here.

The only option left (there were never many options in the first place) is to join the fleet as a soldier, as every troll is supposed to. Being an olive, you're low enough so that highbloods won't notice you, but high enough to get a somewhat decent position, one that doesn't involve manual work was much as it would had you been a rust or a brown blood. You would still be a soldier, still a lowblood, but it's better than being culled.

_You could also start a revolution._ You chuckle at the thought. As if.

* * *

Even though this place is not of particularly high altitude, the wind still blows cold and unforgivingly in the night. Outside the chained fence, critters of all shapes and sizes huddle together to watch the proceedings inside, some teary-eyed, others with their chest puffed out in pride. Oh, how they are going to miss their grubs.

A single, lonely lusus watches from afar. They fidget with their paws while they nervously observe as how one by one, each adult troll slowly boards the ship, having received clearance from the drones and the teal blooded workers in charge of overseeing everything. The lusus hopes for a miracle, that their sweet dear grub (no longer a grub, the lusus reminds themselves, not that they would ever stop calling them their grub) doesn't suffer more than absolutely necessary. They don't deserve it.

The lusus closes their eyes, a small sigh escaping their mouth. They really, _really_ hope the best.

Inside the camp, far from the worried lusus, is a young green blooded adult troll. That troll is you. The focus has now been shifted towards you as your point of view becomes relevant once more, which honestly confuses you. When had the point of view not been yours? You are you! There were zero times in which you had not been you, and it'll always stay that way!

... Somehow, you feel like the 'you've always been you' trope had been used before more than it should. Gah! You're getting a headache! Where did all of this even come from?!

_"Number 413914, please step into booth number 7."_

Oh. Time sure passes when you're musing. You get up from the uncomfortable plastic chair you were formerly sitting on, hyper-aware of your posture and the way you carry yourself as you walk to the small black tent with the number 7 painted in white. The drones are watching, and although the paperwork you submitted to them was just swell, you still can't help the shiver down your spine as they watch you like a meowbeast watches a squeakbeast before pouncing. Not a very inaccurate metaphor.

You bump on a few fellow recently-molted trolls on your way. This is an Assigning Camp after all, a place where young adult trolls go right after molting so that they can be assigned their place in the Empire. A death sentence for the incapable, a push into hell for the lowbloods, a stairway to heaven for the higbloods.

Once arriving at the tent, you are greeted by a slim teal woman. Her impeccable formal suit and hair tied to a ponytail with no rogue strands just scream "serious business", but then again, being Assigned is no joking matter. She gestures you to sit and opens an olive green file from the pile of equally colored paperwork.

"The drones saw nothing wrong with your resumé, but we still need to triple check everything before we send out anyone, just the usual stuff." The woman says, not looking up from your file. "And so," she looks at you for the first time, hints of indifference under the thin veil of monotone. "I'll just be asking a few basic questions, make sure we have everything straight. You can do that, right?"

"Yes." You grip your knees a little tighter, ready for anything she might throw at you. Come on, you've practiced this in the mirror.

"Name?"

"Mispah Raedre."

"How is it spelled?"

"M-I-S-P-A-H R-A-E-D-R-E."

"Age?"

"10 sweeps."

"Hatch day?"

"13th bilunar perigee of the 4th dark season's equinox."

"Hemocaste?"

"Olive green."

"Lusus?"

And so the game of twenty questions went on, with the lady shooting questions at you like bullets and you successfully answering them without a hitch. This is _way_ less stressful than expected, and you can't help but relax as time goes on. Looks like you worried for nothing. The drones may check your bags, but you took extra care to wrap your entire pill supply in goldblood psionic with the help of an acquaintance from the black market. They'll never find it, and if these questions are all that stands between you and sweet, sweet survival, this will end up being so easy you almost feel like crying.

"Well, at least you got the basics right," the woman murmured. "Believe it or not, some people _actually_ find ways to mess this up." She snorts. "Like, damn, if you're going to fake some documents, at least do it right! I swear, there's at least one idiot every perigee." Her eyes finally diverge from cool indifference, shifting to something more akin to amusement and exasperation before losing their light once again, leaving dull teal circles behind.

You nod along, choosing to stay silent.

At last, it's over. You can now finally be assigned to ship and a function and-

"Last but _very_ far from least, the blood test." She reaches into a drawer under the table and pulls out a small device with a needle on one of its ends and a small screen showing pixelated Alternian writing. "It will only hurt for a second but will reveal vital information. This test will not only prove your Hemocaste, but also show any signs of substance abuse. The most common case so far is sopor addiction, but it is capable of tracing just about any type of drug." She bores into your eyes. "So if you _conveniently_ left something out of your resumé, pick a god and pray."

Wait. What.

_Wait. What._

** _WAIT. WHAT._ **

"W-Wait, I wasn't informed of this." You immediately start beating yourself up the moment these words come out fo your mouth. _Way NOT to be suspicious at all!_ And your voice faltered too!

She smiles. It's not a kind smile. "Yes, this procedure is not very well known to the public. You can imagine why we would want this to be a surprise."

You're so fucked.

She sets the device on the table and gestures to it with the wave of a hand. It's now or never.

With a deep breath, you reach a slightly trembling hand forward, index finger out and, with your eyes closed in nervousness, you prick your finger.

Perfectly acceptable olive green drips out, and you withdraw your hand with haste. The liquid slowly trickles to the base of the needle, and the device makes a tiny beeping sound. You hold your breath.

...

...

...

The screen lights up with _"Questionable substance detected",_ and you can't feel the floor anymore. 

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" If the meowbeast-drones outside looking for a squeakbeast were terrifying, they are _nothing_ compared to this woman's eyes now. She's the meowbeast that _caught_ its pray.

"Oh! I've seen this one before! It's a blood-changing drug, isn't it?" She huffs. "Well, this one's rare. What are you? A tiny little goldblood trying to escape being turned into a battery? Well, that's too bad."

She pushes a button under her desk and it's over.

Everything. It's all over.

You're no longer Mispah Raedre. You're just a fool who thought they could trick the Empire. Another one of the idiots who thought everything would end up alright. That a simple, small pill was the key to happiness in this world of suffering. Another dreaming moron who forgot their place, who forgot...

Who forgot that this is Alternia, and there was never such thing as happiness in the first place.

You don't even scream, don't even fight as the drones take you away. It's over. You were doomed from the start. There was no way this crazy plan was going to work, not in the best outcome. Other trolls look at you with disgust as you are taken away, each arm held by a drone in each side, feet staggering behind you as you struggle to keep up with the pace. It's over. You're going to die-

From the crowd of lusii outside, horrified beady eyes meet yours.

Your heart feels like it had stopped beating.

It's like a punch to the chest. Like a slap to the face. Like a bath of cold water. It's all of those things and more. Your lusus. Your parent who chose you amongst the sea of grubs in the caverns. Who raised you in hopes of you surviving. Who fed you, taught you, protected you with all their might. The only one who cares about you.

Those eyes, which once looked at you with such warmth and adoration, now looks at you with sorrow and grief.

You... It can't end like this.

_You plant your feet into the ground. It gets pulled along with the rest of you by the drones._

Seriously? Was THAT the best you could have done?! Ten sweeps! Who knows how long you can live! Don't you want to find out?

_You tug on your arms slightly. The drones pull harder._

What is even your Hemocaste ability? Why are there no more limebloods? Why were they hunted down?

_You jerk your torso to the left. The drone at your right is surprised, but pulls you back._

Don't you want to live? To get in one of those spaceships and explore the stars with your fellow trolls, hell, _meet_ some trolls. You've never had friends, too afraid to trust anyone. Don't you want to have someone to rely on? Someone to talk to and be happy around?

Yes. You want to. You can't die here. Too many sights to see, too many questions to answer, too many friends to make.

You won't die here.

And so, you lift your leg and-

You stomp it on the drone's foot. _Hard._

It's not enough to significantly damage it, but it sure as hell is enough to startle it. You take the small moment of confusion to retreat your arm from the drone's hold, swinging it to plant your claws between the other drone's neck plates. It's by sheer luck that you don't miss it, and since you can feel a strong electrical current through your arm, you think you managed to hit a wire.

The drone crashes down just as the other regains their bearings. You duck with a yelp when it tries to grab you, and you don't hesitate to run now that you are free. There is a loud siren behind you, coming from the drone which is now chasing you, and you've never felt that much adrenaline before.

You run. You run and don't ever stop. Trolls pass by you in a blur and drone reinforcements land nearby as you duck through them with desperation. A young cerulean man snatches your wrist and received a punch on the nose, blue blood splattering all over the floor and your knuckles. He lets you go in favor of nursing his wound.

You have to hide somewhere. But where? All around you, there are only tents, spaceships and... Oh. _Oh._

You'll have to trust your luck. It's potentially the stupidest plan you have ever thought of. Scratch that, it _is_ the stupidest thing you've ever come up with.

You're gonna fail, it's never going to work-

A loud _'BANG'_ cuts through your thoughts, and you clutch your right ear as it bleeds, a large chunk of it gone.

Shit.

It's your only chance.

With a wince, you take a sharp left and knock a cobaltblood _-A cobaltblood, oh my god. Can you get any deader?-_ into the floor as you push them aside and climb into a space shuttle.

You ram your fist into the control panel next to the entrance, but not before a trail of bullets zips through, leaving dents through the floor and walls and scraping you. You don't waste any time bolting through the main hallway of the shuttle and going to the control room. It's no doubt that the drones will try to break in. You need to take off.

But. You don't know how to pilot a space shuttle. How the hell are you going to do this?

_*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*_

_"RAEDRE, EXIT THIS SHIP RIGHT NOW OR WE WILL BE FORCED TO BREAK IN. YOUR PUNISHMENT MAY BE LIGHTER IF YOU COMPLY."_

Fuck it.

You push the biggest button and pull the most eye-catching lever. You can feel the engines roaring.

You grip the yoke and _pull._

The shuttle takes off in a mighty blast, the wind and heat from the engines blowing any and all bystanders nearby. Drones flew around like demented bees trying to take the right course of action, trying to find the proper protocol for this situation. There was none. Going after the rogue would be fruitless, after all, what was a drone compared to a space shuttle?

Trolls from other ships watched in awe and horror as the deviant ship flew away into the horizon. The cobaltblood who was pushed into the floor, then blown away and scorched by the force of take-off could do nothing but stare as his precious personal ship was stolen, from the hands of a _rogue lowblood_ nonetheless.

From outside the camp, the group of lusii scatters, scared from the unexpected take-off. All but one, and as they stand tall, their head lifted up and looking straight at the shuttle, they can't help but smile.

They did it. Their grub did it.

Their little one is going to survive. They know it.

* * *

You glare at the smashed chip on the floor. Stupid thing.

After three hours, _three,_ of dodging missiles and ducking under the control panel in search of this damned thing, you at last found and managed to destroy the tracking device installed on every ship.

The Fleet was doing their damn best on trying to catch you and/or kill you. As expected, there were _hundreds_ of armed battleships once you exited the planet's atmosphere, but none of them waiting for you exactly. They just saw you as a little blue blood shuttle which was flying a tad faster to allowed, but then again, cobalt paint job. They probably thought you were a young highblood too excited to join the fleet of something.

None of it mattered five minutes later, however, as the message finally got across that this shuttle wasn't supposed to be flying at all, and must be taken down at all costs. That's when things got complicated.

Missiles. Lots and lots of missiles. You don't know how to pilot this thing, and lost half a wing and stuff you can't even name in the whole ordeal. You're pretty sure you lost one of the numerous fuel tanks, however, and it seems like the ship is going to last way less than expected. On the other hand, near-death situations seen to be the best teachers. You're starting to get the hang of this whole piloting thing.

After miraculously surviving for three hours under constant attack, you finally managed to exit the nightmarish concoction of deadly weapons, only a couple dozen left following you. A few warp blasts from the shuttle's failing engine, along with the fact that you _finally_ managed to find and destroy the tracker, and boom, you're off their radars. Or at least you hope so.

You swipe the back of your hand under your bangs, sighing and laying your cheek on the scratched panels in which you raked your claws in when looking for a place to hold onto. Gog, you're so tired.

You can't believe you did all of that. You just fucking escaped Alternia. You- you _escaped Alternia._ Gog, you can't even begin to fathom in how much deep shit you're in. You're tired, almost passing out from exhaustion, full of cuts and bruises with a chunk of your left ear missing, but you're _alive,_ dammit! You survived Alternia and you _escaped_ Alternia and-

You're crying. You're also laughing. It's a strange and foreign feeling, one which you can't quite name. You're shaking and hurting, ecstatic and filled with dread, relieved and mortified. You, you...

You never really put a name to that feeling, actually. Instead, you flop on the controls like a ragdoll, the day finally catching up to you.

Your last thought before passing out is about how you left your luggage on the planet, pills included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to be writing chapter 10 of my other fic, but this baby has been sitting in a word document and I couldn't resist not finishing it lmao  
Short for a chapter, _very_ short for a first chapter. So sorry :/  
This will have an irregular update schedule! Sorry again :0  
I'm worried that the escape scene isn't realistic enough, but I'm really bad at writing action.  



	2. Crash And Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You arrive on rather strange land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, sorry about that, but there wasn't really much to do with this one. I considered making it longer but I'm already behind schedule lmao. Besides, I want an individual chapter for each friend.  
**TW for violence and Gore.**  
ALSO! Sorry for not answering many comments, I'm eternally grateful for all of them, however :") thank you so much for the support.

It's quiet. So, so very quiet. You feel warm, you feel safe, you feel amazing and it's all just so damn _calm._ You feel like crying from just how calm it all is.

You are in paradise, the night sky stretching above you in all its glory, showing off stars and constellations, some of which were drawn, thin silver lines making each drawing come together. The two moons complete the view, green and pink beacons of light in the already well-illuminated sky. It's beautiful.

Bellow you, Alternia is blaring with music and laughter. Trolls party, dance, eat, roll down hills and play with their lusii under the mesmerizing sky. They do it together, not a single individual alone, not a single one without a smile on their face. It's the most glorious of festivals, even grander than the ones highbloods would throw when they felt like having some fun. _This_ is a true party. No blood, no gore, only pure, unaltered _delight._

And you? You stand above it all, overlooking the festivities on a hill nearby, a big smile almost splitting your face in half.

You love it. It's the best thing you've ever seen. Every troll loving every troll. A purpleblood gives a goldblood a free slice of cake just because they asked nicely. A violetblood teaches an oliveblood how to swim. A group of jadebloods come together to chat, and although you can't hear them from where you are, you know they just can't wait to see what sunrise is like.

It is, in fact, such a wonderful view, that you decide to step into it.

In the blink of an eye, you aren't on the top of a hill anymore. You're right before the entrance to the festival, about to take your first step into the glorious party. You take a deep breath in, shoulders tensing in anticipation as you lift your leg. The music continues to blare as loud as ever.

The moment your foot touches the ground, screams are heard from all directions.

It's like the flip of a switch. Trolls look at you with wide, horrified eyes. Wrigglers and lusii run away without hesitation, scrambling to get as far away from you as possible. People reacted in fear and disgust, the music stopped and suddenly _you're not safe anymore._

They're running at you. Charging with their claws out and teeth bared. You don't even have the time to dodge as someone punches you in the shoulder with enough force to bring you to the floor. Another pulls your hair and keeps you in place as more and more people come to slide their claws along your limbs and kick you in the stomach. Someone stomps on your back and your cheek scrapes on the dirt bellow.

Claws are being dragged along your skin, your back feels like it's on fire and your left leg is bent at a wrong angle. You can get feel the metallic taste of blood on your tongue now, and your diaphragm struggles to pull in air. It's hopeless. You're hopeless.

_Freak._

_Fuck up._

_How could such repugnant creature exist?_

_Look, it's trying to crawl away._

_Pathetic._

_Waste of space, oxygen and resources._

_It probably won't last long._

The crowd part ways, snarling trolls making a large corridor of bodies, screaming and lifting their fists in your direction. Two trolls grab your arms by each side, your head lolling back as you gasp, overcome with dizziness and nausea. They don't give you a second to breathe as you are dragged away, down the corridor of monstrous people, roaring and jerking your body in different directions.

You can't really feel anymore. Everything is numb. The pain is gone, the taste of blood is gone, even the roughness of the troll's hands as they drag you feel _so_ far away. You're almost completely detached now, everything is just so distant. You hope it ends soon.

It doesn't.

It is only what feels like an eternity later that they stop. The crowd is behind you now. They scream and growl and whistle and laugh and glare. There is a quiet noise, somehow heard over the ruckus. You look down and see small droplets of lime green on your shirt, the stains unexplainably stark against the dark fabric. There is a tickle of warmth in your face, a tiny river of blood coming from your nose and dripping off your chin.

The crowd continues to roar behind you.

They kick your weakened legs from behind, making you fall and crossing your arms across your chest, tugging them harshly from behind. One lays their foot on your head, this time also making sure your horns scrape the gravel. You've never felt so miserable in your life.

Through the single eye you are able to crack open, you see two pairs of feet approaching your head. The foot is lifted and you look up from the best of your ability. Two trolls stand before you, a rustblood and a violetblood. The violetblood kneels and pulls your chin up, claws caressing your cheek gently with the motion.

_What is this?_

The violetblood wipes the trail of lime green from your lips.

_Something that shouldn't exist,_ says the rustblood.

_This color..._ Their eyes narrow.

The violetblood gets up, and with matching expressions with dismay, they turn their backs and walk away.

A culling fork is held high above your head.

* * *

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_

You press the heels of your palm against your eyelids.

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_

Isn't the whole point of sopor slime to keep daymares away?

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_

You want to vomit.

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_

"STOP IT!"

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_

Ugh. It's not like you expected it to work, but it didn't hurt to try.

Making a weird noise combination of a sigh and a growl, you unlatch the recuperacoon lid, immediately cringing and covering your ears as the noise intensifies now that there's one less wall to muffle it.

_ **BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP** _

Your name is MISPAH RAEDRE, and PROBABLY three nights ago, you escaped the ALTERNIAN EMPIRE. You don't quite know how long it's been, actually. You passed down and was unconscious for quite a long time, in which you chalked up to "a few hours, probably".

It seems the Empire hasn't put much effort into looking for you, thankfully. Either that or destroying the chip had done more than expected. Truthfully, you suspect the reason to this is that with the damage they've done to the ship, as well as how inexperienced with piloting said ship you are, the higher-ups probably thought you would die soon enough. Alas, you lived, bitch.

Although, that last sentence may turn into a lie soon, judging by the unholy beeping noise the ship is making right now.

You wipe yourself with some towels- _you'll take a shower later, no time for it now-_ and put on some underwear, jogging to the control room and ungracefully plopping down on one of the chairs. You're proud to say these past three nights you've been living here, you've gotten better at figuring out how the controls work, even though 1/4 of them are now rendered useless what with how fucked everything is after your escape.

You know how to change the trajectory of the ship, and even though you can't quite use the left wing anymore, you'd say things are better than expected for an escapee. You thought it would be harder, living as a space vagabond, but really, the only thing you'll have to worry about is food and water- which, really, this is a cobaltblood's personal shuttle. It won't be a problem for the next few months _at least._

Fuel, however, is _definitely_ a problem, as you soon find out.

The source of the beeping noise soon makes itself clear as you take one good look at the panels. More precisely, at a blinking red light that sure as hell wasn't blinking before. Nowadays, all Alternian ships are powered by goldblood psiionics, the only downside of this (in the highblood's eyes, at least) in that goldbloods have a short lifespan, the only exception being Her Imperious Condescension's helmsman, "blessed" with longevity.

In case of a goldblood dying while on duty, the ship will automatically activate its fuel tanks, and will be able to go on for quite a while before needing to stop at somewhere to replace the helmsman, assuming the crew hasn't just snatched some other unfortunate crewmate to do the job. You, however, have nowhere to stop in, and no goldblood to replace.

Fuck, the ship took off without even having a helmsman in the first place, didn't it?

You throw your head back, groaning in despair and thanking past-you for all the research to what happened to goldbloods on Imperial ships. Before you found the drug, you thought of the incredibly unlikely possibility of faking bring a goldblood with weak psiionics, which caused you to go the nearest bookhive and start looking into pretty much everything involving said caste. The knowledge is now rendered somewhat useless, you lament.

Back to the issue at hand, the ship is running low on fuel and it needs to land _soon._

You stretch, the daymare finally forgotten as the situation becomes clear. Alright, you're fully awake. Now what?

You fumble a bit with the buttons, taking your time to look at the drawings in each of them and consider whether to press them or not. It feels like a sport, or a very dangerous game. For all you know, a single nondescript button may cause the shuttle to explode. 

Eventually, you decide that not much can be done. What were you even thinking, running away like that? You don't know how to pilot a spaceship, and _of course_ you were going to run out of luck someday. You're fucked. The ship will run out of power, floating uselessly in open space, then the heaters will stop too and you'll slowly freeze to death, alone in the middle of fucking nowhere. Just another death by stupidity.

Incredible. All of that fighting for nothing. You clutch your injured ear, feeling the hole the bullet left there. It still hurt. All for nothing. You draw your hand back, seeing specks of lime green on your fingers. Without your pills, your blood turned to its original color. You suddenly get a flash of the daymare you had a mere 30 minutes ago.

You get up, wincing at the crunching sound of dry sopor flakes. You really ought to take a shower, it's not like there's anything better to do while waiting for your inevitable doom. You head for the ablutionblock, absentmindedly thinking about your next (and one of lasts) meal. You think you saw noodles in the fridge yesterday?

_(Unbeknownst to you, the ship had many automatic systems, one of which selected emergency landing spots.)_

_(A certain blue planet, previously unexplored by the empire, looked particularly viable to the ship's system.)_

* * *

Your ears are ringing. You can barely move and you can't see anything ahead of you, just pitch-black darkness, as if you were looking at the void itself. suddenly, light flashes behind your eyelids, and cotton is pushed deep into your ears. What was once ringing is now just dull, numb, at a distance from you. In fact, almost everything feels numb. You can't move anything. You can't do anything. You can't breathe. You're dead.

And then, you're not.

You can't stop the scream that rips itself out of your throat as everything comes crashing in. The pain, the heat, the weight on your back and- _hoy shit, your arm. It's on fire, it must be._ You crave the delicious numbness of mere seconds ago, where nothing could be felt and you didn't have to suffer so much. You're crying now, and nothing can be done to stop the tears streaming down your face.__

It's like the daymare again.

Except much worse.

You can feel everything, every little pinprick of pain, the way your chest fights with the floor below you as you desperately try to breathe, and your horns bang against hard material when you move but an inch. Your legs feel useless, and you can do nothing but lay down helplessly in misery as the pain intensifies and more damage is done each second that passes. Dread finishes settling in just as the smell of smoke reaches your nostrils.

The shuttle crashed. You had five minutes of panic starting from when you noticed the ship was heading _towards_ a nearby blue planet instead of simply passing by it, and ending just as you passed out during "landing". The shuttle was damaged from your escape, which was most likely the reason it went down without stopping, without stabilizing and then crashing down on the planet's surface.

Time passes. It could've been minutes, it could've been hours, you don't really know for sure. You drift in and out of consciousness, a vague feeling of deja-vu overcoming you the times you managed to stay awake long enough to form coherent thoughts.

The next time you wake up, the heat has settled a bit, but your throat feels like sandpaper from smoke inhalation and you're not sure you'll be able to speak normally anytime soon. You carefully try to move around a bit, just little twitches to test out your movement range. You immediately stop when you try your legs, crying out in pain as the sensation of pins and needles mixes with heat. That's also when you notice how incredibly _hot_ it is in here, which is only logical. The ship was made of a mixture of organic technology and metal, the latter which got heated with the fire.

You need to get out of here. Even if your legs are fucked and you can't feel your right arm, you can't stay here for long. You saw lights on the planet while you were still in space, and although in the heat of the moment they barely registered, now the memory comes crashing in (hah) and your heart beats strongly against your ribcage, not really helping the whole breathing problem. Lights could mean anything. From bioluminescent fauna and Flora to _civilization._

There's no guarantee the natives will be kind to you.

Alright. It's time to get up now. You slowly lift yourself up, testing the weight of rubble on your back and how much of it you can lift. Your left arm trembles with how much weight is put into it in an effort to hold yourself up. Quickly, to make the least painful, you flip around so that you're lying on your back instead of on your chest, simultaneously pulling out your right arm from where it was stuck under. You let you a whine at the sensation, carefully cradling your arm close to your chest. It's bleeding a lot, with green bruises everywhere. Your forearm bone is definitely broken.

Next, the legs. They shifted when you flipped, and the burning sensation is back once more. You've grown used to it in the past 10 or so minutes, but it doesn't mean it hurts any less. You grind your teeth together, internally praying to whatever god is out there, including the Mirthful Messias, that your teeth don't crack with the amount of pressure you are applying to them. You grab the rubble with your good hand and _lift._ Your whole arm trembles and your behind hurts from having to hold your whole body weight, but at last, you free your legs.

And boy are they _bad._ You're no docterror, but you are pretty sure you'll have difficulty walking for a while. They're covered in blisters and cuts, but overall don't look broken. You were wearing shorts when you crashed, which weren't damaged much as it would have been had you been wearing pants, which is something you're grateful for. Running around in an alien planet pantless doesn't sound like a pleasant experience. The main damage is on your lower legs and feet, and although your knees ache when you bend your legs, it's probably not that big of a deal.

Second degree burns on your forelegs, broken right arm, and several cuts and bruises. You expected it to be worse, like a concussion or something. Maybe the gods you prayed for before really did exist?

There isn't much space to move around here. Besides, just as previously established, the current objective is to get out as quickly as possible. There isn't any light around here, so you really have no idea which direction to go to first. If you go up, there's a high probability that you may move something that will trigger everything going down on you. This is a complicated situation. No one to rescue you, no direction, serious injuries, 3/4 of your limbs useless.

But... You survived this far. You can't stop now.

You press on the "ceiling" of your little cave, and _push._

Nothing happens.

Uh. This may take a while.

* * *

"It's been four hours since the unidentified object landed, and absolutely _nothing_ has been done about it! There could be aggressive lifeforms in there for all we know!"

"Oh for fuck's sake, it's almost a guarantee there are lifeforms in there, alright? That thing _fell from outside the atmosphere,_ and something or someone _had_ to be controlling it. It's not one of ours, and no other Nation had claimed it."

"Aliens. Can you believe that? I woke up complaining about how boring things have been recently."

"Hey now, we don't actually know anything about the UFO other than it came from outside, crashed and was on fire for about an hour. Let's try to be more professional and call whatever comes out of there "Creature", alright? No pop culture "Alien" shit."

"_"Creature"_ makes it sound like some teenager's fantasy fanfiction-"

"ARE WE SERIOUSLY DISCUSSING _THIS_ RIGHT NOW? THAT THING COULD BE HARMFUL. WE NEED TO FIND A WAY TO SAFELY APPROACH IT AND WE'RE FIGHTING OVER WHAT TO _NAME IT?"_

"... I suggest sending some SWAT teams. The local police are already on the area to keep the civilians from getting too close, and the military is on their way last I heard. The town it crashed in is rather far away from other settlings, thus the delay."

"Right. I want the area monitored 24/7. Nothing or no one comes in or out without us knowing."

A chorus of "Yessir" rang across the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mispah Raedre and MSPA Reader, although theoretically the same character, have their differences. Mispah, being a troll and having to survive in Alternian society, is more resilient than good old human Reader. Nothing too flashy, though.  
Next chapter, OUR FIRST FRIEND!!


	3. The Fright Of His Life (Pt.1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something crashed near Thrashthrust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bro I'm so fucking sorry.  
This was shaping up to be a 6k chapter, and I was very happy but also... A lot of things happened in my personal life- thankfully not regarding the Coronavirus (directly, anyways) and I figured out that this chapter would take even LONGER than expected, sooooo, yikes.  
I have another 1k words, but decided to cut off from that point. It's not the perfect cutoff point, but food is food ig.  
Once again sorry about that. But on a good note, that means that 1k of the next chapter (or, pt2) is already written!  
I thought long and hard about the troll's names, as well as the city's name, and I've decided they should all stay the same.  
Also, I was having some trouble with the verbs- should I write them in the past? in the present? I've decided the following: for the reader/raedre, everything will be happening in the present. For other characters, it will be in the past. for example:  
"You think."  
"He thought."  
It feels more natural this way, and I won't have such a hard time editing.  


The last bell of the day rang, and soon the hallways were filled with eager students.

Everyone had heard the news. Some had even heard or claimed to _see_ the happening at hand.

The previous night, a loud noise was heard from the woods behind Thrashthrust. Shortly after that, a bright orange light emanated from there, as well as allegedly smoke- it was hard to see in the dark of the night. Some people claimed it was an explosion from an unsupervised experiment, others thought it was a meth operation gone wrong. Some people theorized it was a cult, doing unimaginable things.

Some even thought it was a fallen alien spaceship, but that was outrageous.

Nonetheless, the final general consensus was similar to such claim: most likely, a plane or a helicopter had crashed, which caused the fire and smoke. The fire department was quick to the scene, stopping the flames before they burned down the whole forest and looking for survivors of the supposed crash. They returned home that night quiet and refused to answer questions.

Even more curiously, a SWAT team appeared on the scene after mere hours of the incident. Perhaps it was a private jet of someone famous and important? Maybe there was foul play involved, which is what caused the machine to fall in the first place. Perhaps there was something of immense value the people there were carrying. The situation was stranger and stranger. Theories ran wild.

It all culminated in the hallway of Thrashthrust High School. It was the newest gossip, after all.

_"I'm telling you, it was a huge plane! Must have been so, to make so much noise."_

_"Nah, it was smaller than that. I saw this one silhouette last night, but it wasn't big enough to be a plane."_

_"So, maybe a large drone?"_

_"What kind of drone makes such a big mess at crashing? There was a fucking fire."_

_"That SWAT team was up to something. I bet they bribed the firemen to stay quiet about whatever went down."_

_"Maybe it is aliens after all"_

Amongst these whispers, between fellow sweaty highschoolers and bumping into people with murmured _"Sorry"s_ and _"Excuse me"s,_ was a rather short and round body, one that belonged to a rather introverted but enthusiastic boy. After being pushed along the wave of students into the main exit of the school, he took a while to steer away from the crowd, taking a semi-lone path in the direction opposite to the bus stop.

His name is DIEMEN XICALI, and he lives not near, but _inside_ the forest the loud noise was heard from.

Lived. Not anymore.

Neither he or his dad were brave enough to leave their house last night. The noise was loud and close enough to wake the two of them up alongside most of the town, and scared the hell outta the two of them. His father was reluctant to leave their home, insisting they stay inside and wait for the authorities, wait for morning come. There could be danger out there, they must stay safe. Stay put.

And what did he know, there was indeed danger out there.

They should have left when it started getting hot. They should have looked out the windows more, watching out for something to happen, for someone to show up, for a sign they should leave.

They should have noticed the fire earlier. Their home was more of a wooden shed than a traditional house, the fire would spread faster. Only when the smell of smoke reached them did they notice anything. Time to leave.

but they couldn't just leave. This was their home. Inside, was all they had. They already didn't have much, and couldn't lose any more.

So while Diemen clutched the bulky phone with trembling fingers, breathing hard just to cough out smoke seconds later, his father went back into their home and slowly brought out their possession, tried to put ou the fire with tap water, ran to and fro in a frenzied panic and a look in his eyes which would haunt Diemen for years to come.

The fire department took a while too long to arrive. Perhaps it was the unusual location of the house. After all, they didn't own a car, and so there was no need to build a dirt road fit for one. Maybe it was the treacherous terrain, a bulky fire truck is meant to stay in a forest's borders, not inside one. Maybe it was the firemen themselves, be it for lacking management, or some other reason. Diemen would later discover the fire spread out through the forest where it came from, it was a busy night for them and _of course_ they wouldn't always be on time, with conditions like that.

But Diemen wasn't really thinking of that, that night. He wasn't thinking a lot, actually. Or at all.

His father came in and took an unusually long time to come out.

And when Diemen dropped everything he held and ran inside, the only thing left to do in his numbed mind was cursing out everything in existence. Whoever and whatever caused the fire, the forest for spreading it, the house for being made of wood, his father's boss for not giving him a bigger salary, the firemen who took too long.

He still hasn't stopped it. He doesn't think he'll ever stop cursing the fireman who caught him as he entered the house, dragging him out and yelling things Diemen was too numb to hear.

It was a cold night after that.

Cold asphalt. Cold plastic chair. Cold hands grasping his shoulder. Cold sandwich which he couldn't take another bite of without vomiting. Cold. Cold. Cold. So different than his father's end.

He was offered a place to stay, for the time being. His nearest relatives lived cities away, and being the middle of the week, they couldn't come in such short notice. A family was kind enough to shelter him for the next few days, just until his aunt had time to pick him up, and all the paperwork was done. The relief of not having to spend another night in a police station was small, but big enough to cut through the fog of apathy.

He went to school the following day, despite being more than excused. He had to find a way to keep his mind off of everything, and being in an unfamiliar place wouldn't do much good. His friend, Mallek, was never good with emotions, be it his own or other people's, and Diemen could see how hard it was, how out of character he was acting. He forced out a laugh at Mallek's attempted humor. He appreciated that he was trying to cheer him up.

Diemen's head turned at a loud honk, seeing an expensive black car approaching him. The Carmias were a reclusive family. No one knew what the mother and father worked with, with only theories thrown around from "working for the government" to "mob bosses." The only daughter of the family, Ardata Carmia, was a famous youtuber, although Diemen never took interest in the content of her videos, many people around school did. She was pretty, she was popular, she was the complete opposite of Diemen.

She was also Diemen's new housemate for the foreseeable future.

The car stopped, and after a brief moment of hesitation, Diemen opened the door and hopped in, using the foothold to properly enter. To his surprise, there was only one other person inside the car: Ardata herself. For some reason, he was under the impression someone else would be picking him up. From the front-rear mirror, he could see she looked just as pissed as the last time he saw her, in the hallway between classes. If anything, she looked even angrier.

There was a moment which both were silent, staring at each other through the mirror in silent rage and silent anxiety. Then, Ardata sighed.

"Jesus Christ, sit at the front. I'm not an Uber."

Diemen was startled at the request, then left the car and entered back trough the passager's seat. The awkward silence prolonged for a few more seconds, Ardata clutching the wheel tightly and with a closed-off expression. With another small huff, she leaned back and started driving.

The ride was silent for the first half. There were things to say, from both of them, but neither could bring themselves to start a conversation. Ardata kept her eyes on the road, but Diemen could tell she knew of every time he took a peek at her. The car was colder than he would like, but he dared not to speak up, nervousness speaking louder.

Much to his surprise, Ardata was the one to break the awkward silence.

"Look," She said, and Diemen could almost _hear_ the poison dripping off her mouth. She was pushing the words out with clear disgust. "You know who I am, and I couldn't care less about who you are. You are not going to speak to me, you will not refer to me, you will not _interact_ with me in any way. You will not say a word of this... ugh, _arrangement,_ to anyone, be it on social media or god forbid, at school. It'll be as if you don't exist, you hear me?" She took her eyes off the road for a moment to glare at him. "And you will not, by any circumstance or reason, enter my room or the basement."

"W-What's in the basement?" Diemen only noticed his mistake after the words came out of his mouth.

_"What did I just fucking say?!"_

"Sorry ma'am." He squeaked.

Ardata huffed again, although this time, it sounded closer to a growl than anything. Looks like those minutes of silence before were for naught, Ardata was riled up again. In fact, she looked even more irritated than before the conversation, if you could call it that.

After a short eternity of awkwardness, they arrived at the Carmia home. Diemen had no idea of what to expect, but for some reason, the average, if not larger than usual, house still managed to surprise him. Looks like the Carmias really liked their blues, as the exterior of the house was painted almost completely in different shades of it, with only small accents of white. He guessed he expected a mansion of some sort, with the wealth the family was known across town for. Still bigger and grander than any other house he would ever own, but still more modest than one would think.

Ardata stormed out of the car after parking it, the strength of the closing door was so strong the car shook, and Diemen took a moment to compose himself before following. She waited in the threshold, tapping her foot on the floor impatiently until Diemen got close enough to the door. She entered the house, leaving the door open for him and not looking back.

"Upstairs, last down the left." And with that, she was gone by a small door with stairs going down to the basement.

Closing the door behind him, Diemen looked left to the large kitchen and right to an elegant living room. Up to an expensive-looking golden chandelier and down to the soft carpet under his shoes. Although Ardata strode inside with her shoes on, there was a small shelf near the doorway with a few shoes in there, and by the look of the carpet, he wasn't supposed to wear them inside.

His old, second-hand sneakers looked painfully out of place between beautiful high heels and polished black formal shoes when he placed them on the shelf. He took a small moment to just stand there and watch them. Back in his home, while shoes were allowed inside, there could be no shoes in the bedrooms, an attempt to keep things neat. This was the most familiar thing he has seen so far, ever since leaving Mallek's side.

Forcing himself to tear his eyes away, he grabbed his backpack from where he had left it on the floor and trudged up the stairs. His fingers traced the pretty woodwork of the railing, and a small smile came to his face. This was different, but there were worse places to end up in. He hadn't interacted with the Carmias much, but other than Ardata, he hoped his stay here wouldn't be too uncomfortable.

As he crossed the hallway to his temporary room, a thought occurred to him. Wasn't there supposed to be a maid around or something? This _was_ a rich family, so surely they would have money to hire one? Maybe she or he was somewhere else around the house.

Last door to the left. He twisted the knob and the door opened to a rather modest room. Its walls were white and plain, its floor with the same nice carpet from before. There were only three pieces of furniture in the room: a bed pushed to the corner, with new-looking and new-smelling sheets, a small wardrobe next to the bed, and a wooden desk under a window opposite to the bed, with no chair under it.

He closed the door (he was thankful to notice there was a key to it) and gingerly laid his backpack on the floor, laying down on the bed with hesitation at first, but then completely sinking in as exhaustion he had been ignoring caught up to him. He spent a night in a plastic chair and a morning in classrooms, the softness of the covers below him was a welcomed blessing.

It was a bit stuffy in the room, but he couldn't bother to get back up to open the window. He could lay there forever, in that overly-comfortable bed and looking up at the ceiling in silence. Silence silence silence.

Silence makes him think, and he never liked thinking much, especially at that moment.

With a small grunt, he got up from the bed and opened the window. No wind came in at first, but the sunlight was a bit hotter now, and there was the sound of cars in the distance. Distractions.

Now, Diemen never considered himself a smart guy. He knew he wasn't anything special- no talents, no outstanding skills, nothing that takes him apart from the rest. Not like Ardata, who was pretty and pretty manipulative. Not like even Mallek, who was THE computer genius of the school and even had some girls drooling over him from time to time. Oh sure, he had an interest in cooking, but that came from the necessity. His dad was a pretty terrible cook, burned everything he touche-

Ah. Dad. Burned.

Damn.

He could almost laugh at the ridiculousness of the thought, but instead forced back both tears and laughter and forced his mind at the original thought process. He wasn't anything smart, but was still a student and still had homework to do. It was something his father always insisted in and which he never dared to defy.

He doesn't think he ever was, or will ever be this determined to do homework in his life, ever. It was another distraction, something he could do to keep his mind off of things. Something productive. A distraction.

He zipped his backpack open and began shuffling through books, notebooks, and papers. It was a disorganized mess and he doubted he would ever really take some time to put things in order. Crumpled tests and worksheets laid at the bottom of the bag and in between his other material, and among these, his pencil case. Alright, first object, check.

It was difficult to remember what that day's homework was. He didn't pay attention to any of the lessons, and by the look in the teacher's faces when they looked at him and saw that he hadn't even taken out his book yet, he was certain they knew what went down last night. The principal probably warned them or something, for he was left alone and allowed to go to the bathroom whenever he wanted, no questions asked and no resistance from them.

Nonetheless, he knew that Ms. Abby's homework pages were always the next from the day prior, and last night he remembered doing page 134 before going to bed- in his house of course- Which meant that today's homework would be 135. Yeah, he could start with that.

He grabbed the history textbook, and along with it, something tumbled out of the bag. He made a small surprised noise, before reaching down to grab the object.

His fingers met something soft. Not the carpet, but something familiar, something that had held many times before in his life.

A shudder went through him as he lifted an old, ragged hot dog plushie his dad bought him as a child, and which he had forgotten he slipped into his bag a few days before, as a small piece of emotional support for a test he took that day.

He only realized there were tears streaking down his face after the first sob broke out of his throat.

That's when it all came crashing down.

Another sob, a little more high-pitched this time, wrecked it way out of his mouth. It felt raspy, as if he hadn't drunk much water the past few days, or any water at all. His fingers trembled as he clutched the small plushie, the light brown of the "buns" gone an actual brown color after years of accumulation grime. The sausage part rough to touch, but so unbelievably comfortable in his hands. Home. This was home. This was familiar.

And the sobbing turned into full-out crying, only a half-hearted attempt at covering the noise. He banged his head on the mattress from where he was kneeling, clutching the small toy to his chest. Reality came down upon him like how the roof of his home came down after less than an hour of burning. His lungs refused to take in more air, like they already had so much smoke in them even the tiniest gasp had him sputtering and drowning in pure fire. The jacket was hot, very hot, the sunlight coming from the window was _scorching his skin and searing the world around him and everything was falling apart, was being crushed by its own weight, fire in every direction and he couldn't see and his eyes hurt and he was breathing too much- no, not enough air, where's dad? Where is he? Since when was the small cabin a gigantic labyrinth? Since when was there a wall here? Why is the table turned and where is his fishing equipment? Where's dad? What happened to grandma's photos? Where is the entrance? it's so hot. It's so hot and he can't breathe and he can't hear his own voice over the scream of his own blood in his ears and it's scorching his skin and it's hot it's hot it's hot it's hot it's hot it's hot it's hot it's hot it's-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diemen dude I'm so sorry but I wanted to keep some parallels :( basically, the same thing happened to Diemen here, he lost his house and his guardian, but while Alternia would kill him for not having a lusus, Earth would help him, or at least try.  
Nonetheless, I'm really, really happy about how Diemen's characterization turned out. I wasn't able to fit in his meat love, but the fire is much more interesting anyway, and on Earth, you just don't brush off that kind of thing as easily as you would on Alternia. It's PTSD time babey  
I'm also really happy I was able to introduce Ardata like this- feels fluid, feels organic. Character presentation is important, and now I don't have to find a place to fit Ardata in the story, as I would have if Diemen's dad was still alive.  
I wonder how he would react when he realizes Raedre (albeit indirectly) started the fire. Sure, they were hurt too, which _maybe_ makes them as much of a victim as Diemen, but that's still something to think about, for future chapters.  
(06/12/20): oh btw, I made a tumblr. Idk what to post there other than fic updates and maybe some art, but I'd appreciate if you gave it a follow: https://shiirowriter.tumblr.com/


End file.
